(no subject)
There was a distinct relation, Sarah Jane thought, to her current mental state and the events of the last week and a half. The last time she had been in the Compound for tea, she'd been in a mood to rival the very worst in any galaxy, but since then, she'd not found a single accusing hair, she'd managed to move in with someone without taking over the place for surveillance, and she happened to be productive.
Now, she was more than happy and putting it all on her moving situation might have been a bit silly, but it felt nice to think that Peter could have such an affect on her mood.
She'd spent most of the early hours of the morning planting pots and continuing to build something of a small dog-shelter for K-9 and had retreated to the Compound to put on a reel of her old life (she found the nostalgia rather pleasing, really) as she curled up in a chair, legs draped over the side as she scribbled away in a self-made notebook from her paper. She was hardly paying attention to the screen as she wrote, her mind trapped in the leagues of fiction.
When she did look up though was when she heard her own voice accompanied by that of children and she didn't recognize any of it in the least. "Hold on a minute," she spoke, staring at the screen, pen pressed hard to the paper.
It was her on the screen. Her. Her current age (well, looked to be about two or three years older, actually) and she was adopting a child? "Harry," her screen self was asking. "Alistair?" And didn't that bring back a wash of memories. "Luke. That's the name I was always going to choose if ever I had kids. Except it never happened."
She clutched the notebook to her chest as she watched, much more curious now. Well, curious and a bit terrified.
"Pardon?" she couldn't help asking her screen-self. She was a mother in her future? Her not-so-distant future on Earth?
Oh dear.
[She's just catching the tail-end of Sarah Jane Adventures and what she's writing is a novel for Peter]
Now, she was more than happy and putting it all on her moving situation might have been a bit silly, but it felt nice to think that Peter could have such an affect on her mood.
She'd spent most of the early hours of the morning planting pots and continuing to build something of a small dog-shelter for K-9 and had retreated to the Compound to put on a reel of her old life (she found the nostalgia rather pleasing, really) as she curled up in a chair, legs draped over the side as she scribbled away in a self-made notebook from her paper. She was hardly paying attention to the screen as she wrote, her mind trapped in the leagues of fiction.
When she did look up though was when she heard her own voice accompanied by that of children and she didn't recognize any of it in the least. "Hold on a minute," she spoke, staring at the screen, pen pressed hard to the paper.
It was her on the screen. Her. Her current age (well, looked to be about two or three years older, actually) and she was adopting a child? "Harry," her screen self was asking. "Alistair?" And didn't that bring back a wash of memories. "Luke. That's the name I was always going to choose if ever I had kids. Except it never happened."
She clutched the notebook to her chest as she watched, much more curious now. Well, curious and a bit terrified.
"Pardon?" she couldn't help asking her screen-self. She was a mother in her future? Her not-so-distant future on Earth?
Oh dear.
[She's just catching the tail-end of Sarah Jane Adventures and what she's writing is a novel for Peter]